


Sleeping World

by LoBear28



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-06-12 03:49:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15331074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoBear28/pseuds/LoBear28
Summary: Steve loves the smell/sound/sight/taste/feel of you.Short drabbles for each sense.





	1. Olfactory

_I'm a wandering soul_  
_Lost in a city of homes_  
_The earth is plenty_  
_But the soil is thin_  
_-Sleeping World, Vancouver Sleep Clinic_

There was something primal about recognizing the scent of a lover. Certain smells were said to trigger strong emotional responses, and what stronger emotion was there than love.

Steve tightens his hold around you, pressing his nose to the sensitive skin of your neck, inhaling the scent that is uniquely you.

There’s the faint fragrance of the vanilla body wash you use. A simple scent that triggers memories of shared showers and steam, soapy hands roaming over wet skin and moans drowned out by pounding water. An innocuous scent that, when encountered in his everyday life, now reminds of racing hearts and cool breaths on heated expanses of skin.

As you arch your body back against him, the movement of your hair brings forth the slight tang of ozone, faint but sharp in his nose. It’s a scent that is indicative of your love of the sky, a love so deep its essence is ingrained in your very skin. It foreshadows oncoming storms, reminds him of thunder and lightning, how his heart races and the way his skin seems to crackle with energy when you’re near; that a touch could start a spark. It’s sunshine breaking through the clouds, because he’d be an idiot to think you’re not the brightest thing in his damned life.

And faintest of all, below the scent of your skin and essence, is undoubtedly  _him_. Steve would be lying if he said smelling himself on your body wasn’t one of the most intimate things he could imagine. That he had gotten so close as to leave a bit of himself on you, and vice versa. It drove straight to the base of his self, ignited an intense heat and longing, and invoked a sense of pride and possession, like he had somehow marked you as his.

Almost immediately he discarded the thought; you belonged to no one but yourself and the sky. You flirted with stars and planets. He could never compete. But you had deemed him, a stubborn boy from Brooklyn, worthy of your affections, and he would do everything in his power to be the kind of man worthy of you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got this idea one day and really wanted to try to write it out. While I envision a certain badass lady with my Captain, and some characteristics might still sneak in, I’ve purposely left it open to your interpretation while reading, and I quite like the format. Thanks for reading!


	2. Auditory

_My shallow patience_  
_And my tender skin_  
_Could never free me_  
_Like you did_  
_-Sleeping World, Vancouver Sleep Clinic_

Steve has come to recognize the unique sound of you; become tuned in to your particular frequency.

There’s your laugh, for starters. 

At a busy party in Avengers tower, the room loud and energy chaotic, he hears your peal of laughter and his eyes can immediately find you.

You laugh with a genuine unbridled joy Steve admires, your head tipping back to expose the pale column of your throat. It always brings a smile to his face witnessing this, _you_ , along with a fluttering in his stomach that he doesn’t dislike. It makes him want to go to you and press his lips to the pulse at your neck, feel you chuckle against his hair, your fingers gripping his biceps.

* * *

There are the sounds you make in private, behind closed doors and for his ears only.

Steve can recognize the cadence of your breathing, the measure of the pleasure you’re feeling. There’s the soft moans and groans and pleas. The way you breathily say his name and clutch at his shoulders can undo him in an instant. The sounds are the same yet different every time.

He doesn’t mind learning them all. 

* * *

And then there are the mundane sounds, like your sneezes and snores.

Steve could be walking down a hallway at the Triskelion when, inevitably, there would be the distinct sound of someone sneezing, and he knew, _knew_ , it was you. With a burgeoning smile he’d pull out his phone and type out a simple text to you: _Bless you_. Moments later you would suddenly appear in the hallway from one of the nondescript doors, hands raising in the air when you spotted him.

“Every time Rogers!” you would exclaim. Your tone bordered on incredulity but your eyes were all affection.

He would wink as he passed you by and, inevitably, with a little grumbling, you would pull him back by the arm to press a kiss to his cheek before letting him go.

On the other hand you vehemently deny your capacity to snore, despite his humorous but futile attempts to prove otherwise. But he doesn’t mind at all. Steve has known both the silence of an empty bed as well as the overtures of sleeping soldiers in war zones. When he thrashes to the surface of sleep in the night, heart and mind racing, the sound of you and your slow, even breathing ground him, calm him, and bring him back to where he is, _when_ he is.

On particularly rough nights, if he happens to wake you, you reassure him with quiet murmurings, pull him close to entangle your limbs and lay his head on your chest, fingers gently running through his hair. It’s his favourite sound of all: the strong, steady beat of your heart. It lulls him back to peace and reminds him he’s not alone.


	3. Optical

  _In a glorious moment_  
_You show me beautiful lights_  
_And I want to know all the colors_  
_Emotion in your eyes_

_-Sleeping World, Vancouver Sleep Clinic_

 

There are moments where Steve finds himself taken aback by the sight of you. He’d like to think it’s the artistic side of him that can appreciate all the nuances that make you unique.

You are beautiful. Anyone can see that. _He_ can see that every time he looks at you. But you are so much more than your beauty, though he appreciates every facet of it.

You are so bright and full of life, exuding energy as quick as you can absorb it. You’d been glowing the first time he’d really seen you, in the midst of battle, radiating energy that seemed to envelop you like a golden aura. Floating above the chaos, your hair had been in tendrils around your face as waves of power pulsed off you. You were ethereal. Like some sort of avenging angel. Steve had been awestruck.

Your eyes are the blue of the clearest sky, the sky that you so enjoy flying in. Blue like the bodies of water Steve has only seen in pictures. It was an electric blue he still tried to capture on paper in every artistic medium at his disposal. But he happily welcomed the attempts if it meant he got to have you as his muse.

* * *

Mornings with you are the best. It’s a toss-up on which one of you wakes first--being up before dawn seems to be ingrained in both of your bones--but when it’s him he takes the time to admire you. The first rays of the sun coming through the window bathe you in gold, and his gaze travels down the expanse of bare skin laid before him. The dips and curves of your body are enticing, and he often finds himself torn between reaching for paper and pencil or reaching for you. And when you stir and stare up at him with dream filled eyes, his mind quiets and his heart sings.

Steve enjoys seeing how your body reacts to him. Seeing you blush is an innocent delight he can partake in any time of the day. A caress of your lower back, a whisper in your ear, a soft kiss at the corner of your mouth can all bring a rosy flush to your face and a burst of happiness within him. Once you’re behind closed doors he takes pleasure in the sight of your body arching against his, the flutter of your pulse in your neck as you come apart under his ministrations. It's an image he could never tire of.

And when it's quiet, when the world doesn’t need saving and it’s just the two of you, Steve finds joy in the simplest sights. Usually it's you wearing one of his shirts or sweaters, the hem coming to your mid-thighs, flitting around the kitchen. You might be pouring a cup of coffee, or making breakfast, or washing dishes while humming what he was fairly confident was the Star Wars theme. He’d pause whatever he’d be doing and just watch you, a smile growing on his face, until you’d inevitably notice his attention.

“You staring at me again, Rogers?” you’d question with a smirk and cock of your hips.

 “I can't help it,” was his typical reply that, along with a shy smile, usually brought you over and into his lap where things could progress from domestic to bliss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! Sorry for the wait. I haven’t been in a writing mood as of late but I’m trying to finish this. Thank you so much for the kudos, it’s nice to know there are people getting some joy from these :)


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